I was a senior hottie…again!

May 15, 2012 By 32 Comments

Ok, so.

There is this thing that my bloggy friend Liz did last year.

It involved showing you what I looked like in high school.

It was pretty rad.

So she is doing it again this year.

And I’m playing along again.

Get ready…because…

I WAS A SENIOR HOTTIE!

Last year I purposefully chose pictures that flattered my grunge-inspired over-sized sweater look.

This year?

I am letting it all out.

This was the end of Senior Year. I am not sure how those legs supported my body.

 

this was actually junior year. I had bang envy. Can you tell? (also? hello, mom jeans)

senior year again. Me and the besties dressed for a '70's dance. yeah. we had no idea what the 70's were about. clearly.

and of course the classic senior picture. through a fake barn window. Class of '96, baby.

and because we are comparing this year…

taken on Sunday. This is as recent as it gets, and yes, Ed has the super smile going. (also? shut up about the weeds)

I just realized that by looking at these pictures, you would never know I had a YEARS long blond phase.

Huh.

Anyway, I have no idea what category my pics fall under.

You tell me.

The categories are:
Hasn’t Changed Since High School (pfft)
Should Have Been Prom Queen (we didn’t have prom queen, but if we did?  BAM!)
Are You Really The Same Person (other than the more weight/bewbs and less unibrow? clearly)
Most Likely to Date Jake Ryan (I love the movie, but have no idea what this category means. I mean, I’m not Molly Ringwald)
Senior Hottie Sweetheart (the catchall category when none of the others fit. Um, probably)

So…what do you think?

Be honest (Mark, I know YOU will be the most honest), I can handle it.

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With: , ,

two quick

May 14, 2012 By 12 Comments

Dear Charlie…

I don’t remember any two months of my life going by this quickly.

Not even Eddie’s first two months.

In fact, you still seem so little to me, Charlie.  I have to keep looking back at pictures of Eddie at this age to see if he was wearing what I think you will fit into, or doing the things you’re doing, or using the stuff you’re using.

Because it just doesn’t seem possible that you are anything but that tiny little floppy newborn that came home with us two months ago.

But your definitely NOT floppy anymore.  More like bobbley.

You can hold your head up between a 45 and 90 degree angle when you do tummy time on your boppy.

But truth be told, you prefer that I “stand you up” because you recently found your feet, and you have a better view that way.

And when I do this?  You lock those little legs, straighten that back up, and hold your head completely still for a few seconds before it wobbles a bit.

You are so strong!

Your 2-month appointment is not until Friday, but you still have that annoying plugged tear duct.  We might have to take you to an optometrist to have it unclogged…I’m crossing my fingers that the doc thinks it will do it on it’s own.

Your mystery “butt bump” is pretty much gone.  Sometimes we will see it inflame a little, but it’s mostly not even noticeable.  I hope to have this confirmed with the doc too, so everyone can stop worrying about it.

Your personality is sprouting and growing like crazy.

Although you sleep so much!

I mean, I know babies sleep a lot, but I have to ask the internet daily if babies really sleep this much.  (I am assured, yes, yes they do).

But when you are awake, you crack me right up.

You are starting to coo and “talk” all the time.  I like to think you’re going to be a story-teller like your mom (and brother), but we’ll see.  You are pretty chill like your dad, so maybe you’ll keep your stories until someone asks about them, like he does.

You’ve started actually interacting when you are awake too.

You like like to look into our faces (while we look back at you.  You get mad if you feel we may be ignoring you for whatever is on TV or our computer screens) and react to our facial expressions.

Your smile slays me.  Usually it’s in response to me smiling at you, but every now and then you smile out of nowhere like you just thought of something hilarious that you’re probably not going to share…or your laughing at me.  It’s one of those things.

Oh and you have found your hands!

Just this week you have started concentrating on those things at the ends of your arms and how you can move them at will. Which usually means putting them together in front of you and then bringing them right up to your mouth to lick and suck on.

You are a very scheduled little guy.  We didn’t have to try very hard either. You came home as an “eat every three hours and sleep the rest of the time” kind of guy and we are following your lead with changes you need.

Right now you like to eat 4 or 5oz, poop, play/chat, and then promptly fall asleep for anywhere from 2-4 hours at a stretch.

There are rarely times when you are just mad with no reason.

You love being moved around the house to look at “new” surroundings, so I put you in your bounce seat and take you with me while I do laundry or other tasks.

Speaking of your bounce seat, you love it.

In fact, you will even nap in it.

Another sure fire way to get you to sleep is put you in the Moby.

I love how close you and I are.

You love to be on me or near me at all times.

If I have been gone, the minute I get back, you turn to my voice.

If you are having a hard time calming down, I can always help by putting my face close to yours and quietly “shh shh shh-ing” near your ear.  You’ll immediately turn into me, so our faces touch, and quiet down and doze off.

If you had a choice to sleep on/near me or anywhere else in the whole world? You would pick me 11 of 10 times.

All this is so new to me.

And it’s going by way too fast for my liking.

It is SO fun being your mom because I get to watch you do this every day!

Can’t see the video?  Click here.

I love you, my Charlie Bird…
Mommy

************

Oh, and I have a WINNER for the Self-care package…it’s….

YAY KIM!!!  I emailed you and you have 48 hours to get back to me before I choose a new winner.

Filed Under: Charlie Tagged With: , , ,

fighter

May 12, 2012 By 5 Comments

Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter*

The beast crept in while we were still in the hospital.

It saw it’s opening when every other person in the world held my baby rather than me.

It sneaked in as I encouraged Cort to hold him and snuggle each night in our hospital room, and it stuck to me as the nurse came and wheeled him out to the nursery as Cort left for the night.

It disguised itself as normal as I spent more than the allotted “normal” time crying about everything.

Then the baby started crying…screaming, rather.

And didn’t stop for three long months.

The beast wrapped itself around my brain and whispered in my ear that I was not enough.

That I couldn’t be what this baby needed.

The beast robbed me of my memories of the good times when the baby did not wail.

It put blinders on me so that I could not see myself learning to mother.

Rather, I began to believe that the baby would be better without me.

The beast moved into my chest and preyed on my heart.

It tried to tell me to leave this baby and my husband.

All I did was cry.

I was so mean to everyone.

I couldn’t even mother the baby right.

Why did I even try anymore.

As the beast had it’s way with my heart and mind, something kept me going…

kept me rocking in that chair with that tiny anger ball of an infant…

made me get up in the night and provide nourishment and love…

wouldn’t let me leave him to feel alone while he wailed…

something made me keep trying to be a mom…

something put a sheila over my soul…

or someone.

Until I could get help.

And even now, in the days when the beast sits crouching in the corners of my mind,

and in the crannies of my heart…

someone shines a light on it so it scurries away.

Or at least reminds me that I am not helpless.

I can claw and scrap and kick at that beast.

I do not need to be passive.

When I think that I cannot,

his smile tells me I can, and I will.

He didn’t let me give up.

He made me fight.

If Charlie healed me, it’s because Eddie made me a fighter.

Already my sons are protecting their momma…

and they don’t even know it.

our mad-we're-not-gonna-take-it-anymore faces. otherwise known as "Llama Faces" 'round here

*lyrics from Fighter by Christina Aguilera

*************

Where else I’ve been this week…

Thursday I guest posted at Naked Girl in a Dress…I Ain’t Afraid of No Teenagers.

Today I have TWO posts up on BNV:  Placenta: It’s What’s For Dinner and the next in my school series: Getting Schooled Part II: Private Schools

Filed Under: anxiety, depression, Eddie, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , ,

in this moment…i am healed

May 11, 2012 By 26 Comments

This moment…

I am unshowered at almost 2pm on a Thursday.

I have barely eaten anything, and only peed once since getting up this morning.

I have no make up on.  In fact, I didn’t wash my face last night either, so maybe I have some smudged leftover eyeliner on.

I’m still in my jammies.

I could fall asleep if I wasn’t typing these words.

and I feel healed.

Because also in this moment there is a small gift snoozing on me.  smiling in his sleep.  frowning in his sleep.  sighing. stretching.

we are draped with a blanket a knitting club from church made for him.

The TV is off and instead a mix I made for my ipod is playing softly from the kitchen while we take up resident in my chair in the livingroom.

and I feel healed.

It’s been 2 years since I wrote about my depression.

It’s been almost 3 years since I had a wee bundle in my arms.

Despite all that I have accomplished in the past three years, I still carry guilt and hurt in my heart that my experience with Eddie during his first year fell short of wonderful.

Had I been unshowered and idle under a sleeping baby on a beautiful sunny day three years ago?  I would have cried the whole time.  I would have felt incapacitated.  I would have stored up anger and resentment in my heart and taken it out on Cort as soon as he walked through the door.

But today?

Today I could totally put the baby down.

I could do laundry and change sheets and scrub floors.

I could shower.

I could pack us up and run errands.

But I am choosing not to.  I am choosing not to.

Colic is not choosing for me.

Depression is not choosing for me.

Anxiety is not choosing for me.

I am choosing for me.

In this moment, I am sniffing a baby head every few seconds.

I am closing my eyes and letting myself rest.

I am not feeling needed anywhere but right here.

I am managing my commitments.

I am staring at my baby…his tiny nose and fingers and toes and lashes.

In this moment…I am healed.

it's not glamorous, but there is no where else I would rather be.

 

Don’t forget…one of the reasons I am thriving this time is because I am taking care of myself.  I want to help YOU take care of yourself too, so enter my giveaway!

Filed Under: anxiety, Charlie, depression, Katie, mental health Tagged With: , ,

a gift

May 7, 2012 By 27 Comments

My dad works with his hands.

His job, for a very large office furniture company (Herman Miller), is Model Maker.  Simply put, the designers create new visions of chairs and desks and partitions and other office furniture things and my dad makes work models.  He takes their vision and makes them into something tangible.

From there, he works with the designers to get out the “bugs” before anything can go to production.

My dad has always worked with his hands.

Not only can he–in my mind–fix anything, but he can create things too.

When he had children, he made us blocks.

When my parents finally replaced their 1970′s TV which had it’s own metal, rolling stand to hold it, my dad created cabinets out of oak for the new TV and for my mom’s stereo.

When my brother was being potty trained, he built him a bathroom stool.

When I decided in elementary school that I wanted to paint little wooden animals, he made me some.

When my mom wanted a shelf in the bathroom for her nicknacks, he made it and hung it.

When my brothers needed big boy beds, my dad designed and built them bunk beds.

And there has been more.

That is why, when it was time for Eddie to move out of the nursery and into a Big Boy bed, I asked my dad if he would mind making bunk beds for my boys.

I knew it was a big thing to ask.

Yes, he has made them before, but it’s not something you just whip up on a free weekend.  It takes a LONG time.  Especially since my dad is a perfectionist.

But he said yes.

And proceeded to cut down the tree for the type of wood he wanted to use.

That’s right, he didn’t go to the lumber yard or to Lowes for wood, he chopped it down and dried it himself.

I told you, he’s a perfectionist.

He started the whole process this past fall.  Last Sunday after months of work, most of which was recounted step by step to my mother, he was done..  My patient wonderful mother.

The past few months were filled with measurement double-checks and stain choices…until finally we got the big reveal.

fuzzy because I had a toddler moving me around.

He came over and put together one of the bunks for the bunk beds.  Of course, we only need one right now.

But he had a surprise for us.

After all those months of asking questions and buying new tools and machines just for the bed-making, he managed to add a little something.

Yup, my dad did that.

Cort saw it first as my dad was putting the bed together.

“Oh wow,” he uttered softly.

I was like, “what??”

And then I saw it.

And then the tears burned in my eyes.

My dad kept working at putting the bed together without saying much.

After they left, I ran my fingers over the letters.

I thought about how my kids sleep in the beds he made for my brothers when they stay at grandpa and grandma’s house.  And someday, God willing, when Eddie and Charlie’s kids stay at our house, they can sleep in beds with their dads’ names on them.

My dad isn’t just making beds.  He is making family heirlooms.

Something that we will have for always even when we are all gone.  Something for my boys to have.  And their kids.

bed made by my dad, quilt and matching pillows made by Cort's grandma Sluiter

My dad isn’t finished with Charlie’s bunk yet, and I told him  he could take some time off since we have a while.

He said, “Oh, I was planning to.  I have other things on my To Do list for a bit.”  Then he chuckled.

Because he’s awesome like that.

He takes the duty of “Grandpa” to his three grandsons very seriously.

Well, not too seriously.  He was the one, after all, who taught me nothing in life should be taken too seriously.

Thank you, dad.  For this gift you have created with your hands.

It is beautiful.

Filed Under: Eddie, Sluiters Tagged With: , , ,

m is apparently for “myself”

May 4, 2012 By 26 Comments

This week for my DSLR class, we met on location at the local tulip farm.

(Yes, we have a local tulip farm.  For a very good reason.)

We didn’t have a lesson per se this week, but we could ask the three professionals that were there anything we wanted as we trekked about shooting things.

This was my chance to practice putting my camera in M and playing with the settings. I figured if there was something I wanted to do, but couldn’t figure out how, I could ask!  Yay!  As a teacher I know hands on practice is the best teacher.

Only, that is not how it worked for me.

With little direction, we were told to just start taking pictures.

Ok, this did not bother me, but I was sort of hoping for a little challenge or assignment.  Like, try to take this picture or have this effect.  So I looked around and gave myself assignments.

I think I did ok (you can see my pics and the assignments I gave myself below), but when the teacher approached me to ask how things were going I said, “Ok, I think.  I mean…I don’t know if what I am doing is “good” but I like it.”

Then she looked at my settings and said, “oh no.  You NEVER want your ISO that high.  That is…just…no.”

While I know she is the “professional” and has her own business and everything, I liked the picture I took.

So I just said, “ok.  I’ll try something else.” and walked away before she could get her meat hooks on my camera and change my settings for me (which is what she looked like she wanted to do).

I was going to ask her how to capture a water wheel thingy and get the individual drops, but I suspected that my 50mm lens would be better for it (they told me to come with my kit lens so I could zoom.  Against my gut, I did it.  And was sorry I did it since I couldn’t get my F-stop as low as I wanted for some shots I was trying), but didn’t want to ask after that encounter.

Now I know what some of my students probably feel like when they tell me they get something and wander off.

Sigh.

Anyway, I really have no rhyme or reason to what I tried other than I picked a subject with an effect in mind and messed with my settings until I either got it or got frustrated and moved on to something else.

Here are some of my favorites from the evening…

IMG_7140

I wanted the front fuzzy and the background in focus

IMG_7150

tried to get a front tulip in focus while fuzzing the rest

IMG_7146

wanted to show this lone white one as standing out amongst the orange

IMG_7104

tried to get the front tulips to "frame" the people in the background

IMG_7106

wanted all clear to show the windmill coming "out of" the tulips

IMG_7092

another one working on front being clear while background a slight fuzz

IMG_7158

wanted the barb in focus with all fuzz. thought it was harsh amongst the beauty

 

So what do you think?  Am I learning anything…(by the way, the top one was shot with super high ISO…apparently it is “wrong”) despite the fact that I am sort of doing it myself?

Next week we learn about lighting for shooting indoors and/or in a studio and about shoot and processing night photos.

Also? I joined Clickin’ Moms because I am desperate for new stuff to try so that I am not just all by MYSELF. I have already found a bunch of tutorials I want to use and try stuff.

Now…to find the time.

**************

Check out me and some other awesome bloggers at Care.com where we dish on what we REALLY want for Mother’s Day.

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With: , , , ,

we promise

May 1, 2012 By 21 Comments

“For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bond or free;
and have been all made to drink into one Spirit.”
~1 Corinthians 12:13

Sunday was a special day for our family.

Our whole family gathered in our little church to witness our promise that we would teach Charlie about the love of Jesus.

Picking a date was important.

I know some churches just tell you when “Baptism Sunday” is because they do a bunch at once, but our church is small.  Baptisms get scheduled as babies are born, so it was pretty much up to us when we wanted it to be.

Eddie’s baptism date is super meaningful, so I didn’t want Charlie’s to just be random.

Since Eddie was baptized on his namesakes’ birthday, we wanted to do the same for Charlie.  However “Charles” is not anyone’s name but his.  However “Thomas”, his middle name, is after my dad.  And my dad’s birthday was yesterday.

(I did give my dad the business for not having a Sunday birthday this year.  Stupid leap day messing up my perfect plans.  Sheesh.)

We settled for April 29 as the Baptism date because it was the day before Charlie’s namesake’s birthday.

To make it even more special, Charlie’s cousins, Kingston and Kyrie, were baptized alongside him.

i chose a safari shirt since he was getting baptized with his ethiopian cousins...can you see it?

Charlie never woke up. First baby in Pastor John's history to not at least squeek.

Eddie was very good, but so very done by the time pictures were taken.

And Kyrie was just plain tired.

The day was sunny and breezy.  Almost every member of our extended family could be there…including Charlie’s great grands.

I know it’s just a five minute part of a church service that otherwise is not about the baptism.

I know for some people the Baptism is just a formality and not something to throw a huge celebration about.

But it’s special to me…to us.

I guess I can’t speak for Cort, but for me, the ritual of standing before the congregation and our closest friends and family and promising to teach our son about God’s Son is important.  It’s a big deal.

Not so that those people can constantly point out our shortcomings in our teachings; we don’t need help knowing we fall short and are frequently hypocrites.

I know we don’t have the best attendance at church, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t teaching our boys about the love of Christ.  It doesn’t mean we aren’t teaching them to pray and sing to God.  It doesn’t mean it’s not talked about in our house. It doesn’t mean that Cort and I don’t try our hardest to show, not just our boys, but the world, the face of Jesus in everything we do.

We invite those we love to hear our promise so they too can be part of that promise.  So they can fill in where we fail.  So they can talk and sing and model for our boys the love and compassion of Christ.

And we are trying so hard to be in church more as a part of that modeling.

Because we promised we would bring the boys up in The Church.

And we keep our promises.

*************

Incidentally, the sermon this day was about healing through Christ’s salvation.  The Pastor talked about Christ being all around us in the faces of each person we encounter each day.  Throughout the service, two tiny babies were on my mind, needing the healing hand of the Lord. And their mother needing strength.  If you are the praying sort, meet Diana and her boys…whom she almost lost…and is now fighting to save.

Filed Under: Charlie, Sluiters Tagged With: , , , , ,

those are designer bags under my eyes

April 29, 2012 By 21 Comments

The mirror and I have a history.

When I was a baby, it would make me stop crying to set me in front of it (my parents still give me grief about this).

I have spent more time in front a mirror than anyone I know.

Not primping or perfecting the reflection.

But searching and questioning what I see.

Pimples and cowlicks and eyebrows and lips and wrinkles and sun damage and eye color and gray hairs a the number of chins and random face hairs and long eye lashes…all overly scrutinized…all imagined different at one time or another.

I have locked myself in the bathroom, plopped myself criss-cross-applesauce  on the counter, and cried to the mirror.

Please be different.

Please be stronger.

Please be better.

Please be braver.

Please be…more.

I have stood, tears streaming down my face, and yelled at the mirror: THIS IS NOT WHO I AM! WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS??

I have stripped down to nothing and chastised the mirror for what it showed me:  fat, out of shape, lazy.

I have smacked the mirror with the palm of my hand hoping, that like our TV from my childhood, I could knock the picture back to what looked acceptable to me.

Many, many times I have thought myself to look one way, only to have the mirror punch me in the face with the truth.

Or at least the truth I see when I look in the mirror.

“I wish you saw what the rest of the world sees,” I have heard my husband, my friends, my family say.

I do not know what this is.

When I look in the mirror I see flaws first.

I hate to admit that.

I want so badly to embrace the confidence I try to put out there.  I want the high self-esteem. Not even for myself, but for my boys.  It’s important to me to model what is a healthy attitude.

But many times, I don’t see whatever it is other people see.

But I am trying.

Today I saw a new again mom who was excited about her second son’s baptism.

I saw a bigger me than I wished, but I mostly didn’t mind.  I did just have a baby, after all.  And I am still lighter than I was when said baby was conceived.

I saw a good hair day.

I saw eyes that shined with joy.

I saw a nice smile.

I saw a wife and mother who tries really hard to be the best she can be…and when she falls short?  She tries again the next day.

In fact…this is what I see most days when I stand in front of the looking-glass.

Well, with the addition of a couple bags under my eyes from all the night feedings.

But I tell myself they are Coach bags.

Oh, and?  if Cort passes through the bathroom to our room while I am using the mirror, I see myself as a teenager again…

…because I am probably laughing.

And in that split second, I love myself.

Exactly how I am in the moment.

 This weeks prompt was “When I look in the mirror, I see…”

Also?  Happy birthday to my dad who taught me that it’s ok to get the “funniest looks from everyone we meet.”

*************

New book reviewed: Confessions of a Scary Mommy by Jill Smokler

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With: , ,

p is sarcastically for perfect

April 27, 2012 By 25 Comments

This week I started a class about using my DSLR.

I’ve had my Canon Rebel XS for about two years now, and other than some helpful tips from a lovely professional (and amazing friend, I might add), I haven’t done a whole lot to learn the darn thing.

In fact, I tend to put it on the P setting and go for it.

P is comfortable.  It’s not automatic and it’s not one of the “picture” settings (what is that?  A running man?  Are those dunes? And why is the hair NOT attached to that profile of a woman?), but it’s not so manual that I have to choose anything either.

I just know the flash won’t pop up and that is all I want.  No yucky flash.

One of my instructors from class calls it the “perfect” setting.  P is for Perfect.

Only it’s not really perfect.  I mean, the camera thinks it’s being all perfect because it’s following the rules of the lighting you are shooting in, but in reality, the camera does not know WHAT you are trying to shoot in that lighting.  It can GUESS.  But then you get pictures like this when it guess wrong:

um, camera? the baby. I want the BABY in focus.

Anyway, the class seems like it’s going to be good since I already learning things.

Like find your owner’s manual and have it in your camera bag.

Oh. Um. About that.

Yeah, I don’t know where mine is.

Moving on…

We talked a lot about shutter speed and aperture in this class because we were discussing exposure.

Shutter speed is how fast your shutter closes and opens (duh), and aperture is the tiny little opening inside your lens that lets light in.

Shutter speed is measured in fractions of a second.  So 1/30 a thirtieth of a second.

Today I played with my shutter speed.  All pics are of the same adorable subject.

taken with a pretty darn slow shutter speed...of like 1/8

and now…

taken with a super high shutter speed of like 1/2000

and finally…

taken with a shutter speed of 1/30

So since a shutter speed of 1/30 looked pretty good on my snuggly, not moving subject, I decided to play with the aperture.  No flash is used and this is all natural light coming in from the front window.

(Aperture is the number with the F in front of it, by the way.  Some call it the F-stop.  Although my teacher never called it that, which I thought was weird since that is what I have been taught it’s called…but maybe I am weird since I am a beginner and what do I really know, right?)

Aperture set as high as it would go at 22. not enough light let in.

hmmm…ok…the other side of the extreme…

Set as low as it would go...a 1.8. too much light.

now playing around to find something I like…

here we are around a 4 or 5. still a little to bright, but better.

If you don’t want to mess with one or the other, you can set your camera to either A (or AV) and you just have to choose the Aperture (f-stop) and your camera will do the shutter speed for you.

Or you can set your camera to S (or TV) and you pick the shutter speed and your camera will pick the aperture.

Then there was a bunch of stuff about setting the meter to “happy”, but that is hard to explain.  Basically it’s that little thing you see when you look through your lens.  It’s at the bottom and it goes from like -2 to 2.  “happy” is in the middle.

And really, if you put it on one of those semi-automatic settings, it will do that for you.  I think if you are trying to take a picture you like, it shouldn’t matter if the meter is “happy” or not. It matters if YOU are happy with the photo.

A “happy” meter just means the camera thinks you’re doing it right.

But what does the camera know?  It had a “happy” meter when I took this:

this? is not "happy". it's fuzzy. but the lighting is nice, so maybe that is why the camera was happy.

Anyway, I guess we are going to talk about ISO next week.  But between you and me and that cup of coffee over there?  I’ve been playing with my ISO for a while.

In fact, it’s the reason I wanted a 50mm lens (which one of the teachers totally called me out on and THEN was snarky about since I am just a “beginner”.  Whatever dude, I have a nice lens.  Just teach me to use it and keep the comments to yo’self.).

ISO is that thing that can make the camera focus on one thing while making the rest fuzzy.

I love to play with my ISO.

See?

power to the people...er...your ISO skillz, mom.

So yeah next week we are meeting at the tulip gardens for some “on site shooting.”  Heh heh.

You know I’ll be filling you in.

Filed Under: Katie Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

using your words

April 26, 2012 By 10 Comments

twinkah, twinkah, wittah sta…
how I wondah what you ahh…
Uppah diamon inna sky…
twinkah, twinkah, wittah, sta…
how I wondah what you ahh!

My dear Eddie…

Just a year ago you had maybe five words.

One of those words was Da-Eee…which you used freely to call to your daddy all the time.

But you had no word for me.  At almost two years old.

Most people told me not to worry, while also telling me to ask my pediatrician why you were still only babbling.

But then one day toward the end of spring break…you called me Ma Ma.

And you haven’t stopped talking and singing since.

You make us laugh every day with your sayings and your descriptions of every day life.

We definitely have to pay attention to what we say, because you are listening,

You will exclaim, “Oh Heavens!” or “Oh my GOODNESS! (That would be from me.  Yes, I have turned you into an 80 year old woman).

The other day when the phone messed up and daddy told you our phone stinks, you said, “We tell mommy our phone is stinky.  PU!”

You don’t just have a word for me now, but you actually call me “mom”.  Like you’re a teenager or something.  Sometimes it’s “mommy,” but mostly, you will yell things like, “MOM!  CAN’T FIND MY PIPEY AND LAMBY!”  or “MOM, I POOP!”

And the QUESTIONS!

“Mom?  I play Mario?”

“Mom? I help you make juice now?”

“Mom?  I play outside?”

“Mom?  I have snack?”

“Mom?  Mom?  Mommy?  Mom?  I sit by you and baby Cha-wee?”

You have so much to say and usually your brain works quicker than your mouth.  Daddy and I wait patiently while you find what you want to say.

“Mom?  Um…umm…I….Um…me….um…Mom?  Umm.  I ride my scooter at Nae’s today. And Mom?  um…um…Um…Mom?  I went super duper fast!”

You love to tell everyone about stuff you are proud of:

“I ride my bike all my own self!”

“Dats baby Ch-wee.  He is my own baby brudder.”

“You come see my own room? My Gwamma Swy-ter make my banket and pi-yo”.

And you fill my heart with your words:

“Bye Mom! I yuv you!”

“I yuv my baby Cha-wee.”

“Jack is my favorite boy.” (Jack is his 7 year old cousin)

“You read me book on your new book in my own bed?”  (my “new book” is my Nook.)

“Me a good boy, Mommy.  I not throw food on fwoor.”

And of course there is the way you talk to your baby brother:

When he is crying…”it’s ok, baby cha-wee.  shh shh shh…it’s ok.” (as you give him his pipey and kiss his head).

Or…”mommy’s makin you bott-ah, baby cha-wee.  it’s ok.  it’s coming.”

When he is laying on the floor…”Hi baby cha-wee!  Hi bro-ver!”

Being in the car with you is one constant stream of observation.  In fact, when I am alone, it’s almost too quiet.  No one is pointing out trucks and motorcycles.  No one is telling me about the piles of dirt or kids on bikes.

Oh Eddie…you are so innocent and observant.

Chatting with you is one of my most favorite things about being your mom.

Even yesterday, when I told you I was going to wear a hoodie just like you and you said, “ye-yo yike mine?”

No, mine is pink, I told you as I grabbed it and started to pull it over my also pink T-shirt.

“Oh.  pink like your boobs.”

I giggled and looked at my shirt and said, “Yes, pink like that.”

Eddie, I hope we never stop chatting.

It’s so fun.

Always use your words, my love.  They are wonderful.

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